


Laundry Day

by LaughableLament



Series: Wincestmas [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 12 Days of Wincestmas, Boys Kissing, Dirty Talk, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, Panty Kink, Smut adjacent, first time in a long time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-01-13
Packaged: 2018-09-17 03:36:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9302438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaughableLament/pseuds/LaughableLament
Summary: Sometimes they give you a souvenir, Sammy.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thep0rnfairy (Jesibella)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jesibella/gifts).



Sam runs it again in his mind. He’d: picked up hampers, sorted. Then, Dean came in from the garage and Sam grabbed _those_ clothes, shoved them in and now? Satiny candy pink slips through his fingers, only could’ve come from—

“Hey-yo Sammy you wash my—” Dean gulps.

Sam’s so gullible.

“—work clothes?”

Or else, Dean’s a mastermind. Gross motels and parade of women: _Sometimes they give you a souvenir, Sammy._ Or, _Somebody oughta fire the maid._

Sam sags against the washer. “You,” works some spit up, “had these on while you washed the car?”

“Uh, oil change.” Dean stuffs hands in his pockets. “You didn’t know?”

Sam’s eyes snap up.

“Chuck wrote about it.”

“Seriously?”

“Charlie says.” Dean looks a little sick.

“How long?” Sam makes fists.

“First time, I’s nineteen.” Flush creeps for his hairline.

“But,” back when they used to… Sam always… “you never…”

Spit shines Dean’s lips. “Was a one-time thing.”

“Until…”

“You left some. That October up by Tahoe?”

Sam’s slammed with the image of Dean, stepping into that pearl white (Dean always liked him in white) stretch-lace. Sliding it over his calves, thighs… _Stop, Sam._

“Souvenir.” Dean oversells the wink.

Sam needs to go. Jerk off or cry or some combo.

“You were always so pretty in ’em. Blushed down to your belly button, every time. Nothin’ we ever bought you could hold you hard either, God it was…” Dean’s teeth click, eyes come up dazed.

“All this time.”

Dean shrugs. “You wanted normal, man.” Head tips back. “Still do. And I ain’t ever gonna—”

“Not normal, Dean, Goddammit! Safe!” _How are we arguing this again?_ “You and me, together and safe. That’s all I ever wanted!”

Dean lays a hand on the door frame, mumbles, “Safest place on earth.” Knocks twice, and, like a switch. “So thanks for the laundry service, Lurch, any more depraved shit you wanna know about me?” He goes for the panties and Sam snags his wrist.

“Yes.”

Dean doesn’t pull away.

“I want all your depraved shit you moron. Starting with this.” Sam lets go. “I never stopped, Dean. All you ever had to do was—”

Dean’s kiss almost puts him on the ground. Palms at his sides, dry brush, catch and release and Dean wavers. Sam’s hands come up and he thumbs along Dean’s jaw. Wet lashes part on wide pupils, lips on shallow breath. Sam descends, pries Dean’s teeth apart and their tongues slide together. 

“My room, ten minutes.” Incendiary grin. “Oh and keep those,” Dean leaves Sam panting. “I got more.”

Sam scrapes thumbs along the white lace band. Stomach clenches, skinny kid blowing his brother in lingerie—

Dean hollers, “Nine minutes!”

Six-minute whore bath and Sam stands back, cringes. Low profile sets shimmery bows under his hipbones. Barely contained balls. Part of his dick pokes out no matter how he tucks and he can’t even think about the pube situation.

“Two-minute warning!”

 _Dean asked for this._ Sam takes a breath. Tugs on his grave-digging jeans, lucky skinchanger bite on the right butt cheek. Pink peeks out, there and his open fly.

“One—”

“Oh my God, I’m coming!”

“You better fuckin’ not be!”

Sam grins.


End file.
